Being perhaps the only foolish foreign individual (herein) to exercise a hitherto unjustified dedication (some might suggest madness) to Hong Kong cinema for the calendar year of 2005 by way of committing to viewing as many of the region’s film productions as humanly possible, my spin of the Top Ten and year in review is somewhat a radical departure from that of my peers. Having engaged film from the Special Administrative Region for near on twenty years now, I’d be hard pressed to assess the year past as a “bumper” year for Hong Kong cinema; indeed, come reflection time I was doubly pressed to amass a collective Top Ten. In the longeurs between productions that would stir my innate passion for the industry I have long championed I have to admit that I found myself on many a nostalgic jaunt into the past, revisiting past classics and (finally) catching up with titles I had previously passed over in favour of the “new face” of the region’s film industry. Out of that bent I came to determine that 1989 was a sterling year in the region’s cinematic output, but that realistically is a story best addressed at another point in time; as too was the manner in which I strayed further afield towards Thai and South Korean cinema this past year.

Titles not seen: b420, China’s Next Top Princess, The House, Moonlight In Tokyo, New Born

10. The Myth/The Unusual Youth - (Herein lies my cheat, as I didn’t want to preclude either of these films from my Top Ten!)

Jackie’s sprawling, internationally-flavoured adventure epic “The Myth” was more than enough, with its colour and energy (as well as jarring gobs of gore from usually family-focused Chan), to keep this latter-day Chan fan entertained. Undeniably, part of that attraction was the magical locations and vistas on display (inclusive of the striking Mallika Sherawat), but the “Armour of God” styled adventure kept me engaged, and Messrs. Tong and Chan even managed to wrest some emotion from me come the gushing fantasy finale. Easily Jackie’s best work since…well, his last Hong Kong outing, “New Police Story”.

As for Dennis Law’s “The Unusual Youth”, as I originate from rural coastal origins myself it’s not hard for me to connect with a small-scale, intimate ensemble piece like this set, as it is, in the rural coastal fishing enclave of Cheung Chau island. No matter how far I come in life, I still harbour fond memories of my upbringing and the myriad messages in Law’s film truly touched a nerve with me as well as elicited fond memories of the past (and, in indirect ways, the present). Perhaps not a film that will strike a chord with city dwellers or suburbanites, but for those who harbour the same roots as myself its appeal is timeless and transcends cultural barriers with ease. A true minor gem of the 2005 release year.

Though he never made much of an impression on me as actor, as a director Stephen Fung has positively leapt from strength to strength in only two and half short films (if one includes his seminal short contained in 2001’s “Heroes In Love”). Where “Enter The Phoenix” wore its heart on its sleeve, mashing up martial arts stylings with its positive message of its focal hero coming to terms with both himself and his place in the world, “House” responds to the age-old Chinese ideal of family and all that that idiom engenders. There is much fun to be had in between the film’s many wildly over-the-top action setpieces, be it Anthony Wong’s veiled super-spy or Michael Wong’s Blofeld-inspired villain, but at its core Fung’s film is boldly and uniquely Chinese in its aesthetic and more importantly its cultural identity. A nice surprise – with wire fu!

Widely criticised as a product of the Michael Bay-bombastic action cinema machine, Daniel Lee’s action thriller is, akin to Stephen Fung’s “House Of Fury”, a domestic production with its sights set squarely on the international set but fixated within its Chinese origins. With rapid-fire editing, glossy visuals, and a sound-mix that is a genuine aural assault, “Dragon Squad”, for me personally, was overflowing with the vibrance and energy that I felt was sadly lacking from Wilson Yip’s much-acclaimed “SPL”. Modern Cantopop idols raise my ire not one iota, and Michael Biehn may very well be the best Caucasian villain Hong Kong cinema has ever been afforded (whilst his partner, South Korean actor Heo Jun-Hoo was a perfectly ice-cool foil for Biehn’s larger than life spectacle). Though some of it stretched plausibility to its limits (for firepower expended in the finale was highly improbable), what Hong Kong action film doesn’t fall victim to such excesses? Best action film of 2005.

Being that I loved the first adventure of Ronald Cheng’s Lung Wai character, it seemed a fore-drawn conclusion that I was at least going to enjoy, even modestly, the sequel. What I didn’t expect was enjoy the second film even more than the first! Drawing most of the original film’s cast back together (Cheng, Sam Lee, Cheung Tat Ming and Patrick Dann make for a highly amusing entourage of larrikins), the sequel sets itself apart by going the route of the small-town, provincial comedy (can you see a theme here?) and engages all of the hijinks that such a mindset might employ. As the heir-apparent to Stephen Chow’s mo lei tau crown, Cantopop hero Ronald Cheng is a more than a welcome face to me with each new year’s comedy offerings. From the opening strains of Cheng’s catchy “Rascal” theme song, to silly “PTU” reference during the epilogue, “Dragon Reloaded” kept me in equal states that wandered between a knowing snicker and outright loud laughter, of which I couldn’t ask for more of a comedy.

Where others appraised Wilson Yip’s “SPL” and/or Johnnie To’s “Election” as the crime films of the year, Wong Jing and Billy Chung’s dark and brutally violent exercise in fatalism ended up being the one to beat for me. Surprisingly, it remained at the head of the class in its genre for the remainder of the year. What held it in higher esteem for me, over its contenders to the throne, was its solid, well-mapped out story, a lightning pace augmented by tight editing, some strong performances and raw emotions from its ensemble cast, jarring bone-cracking violence unseen since the more heady days of Hong Kong’s former crime-dramas, and a breathtaking double-hit climactic twist that acted as a grim, visceral punchline to all that preceded it. Some say Hong Kong doesn’t make films like this anymore, but Wong and Chung’s film is living, breathing proof that it most certainly does.

I have to admit; I put off watching this Andrew Lau and Alan Mak comic-to-screen adaptation until way late in the year, and promptly questioned myself as to what on earth I was doing by doing so once I had! Far better executed, and perhaps marginally more intricate that I had imagined it would be, Lau and Mak’s film was rife with all manner of eclectic characters, trials and tribulations, high drama and markedly low-key (yet vast) CG; and it kept me watching right until the very end as well as scored extra points for its sting-in-the-tail refusal to supply a saccharine “happy ending”. When Chapman To entertains, and the very notion of Anthony Wong literally “sleep-walking” through a role amuse, I’m on the sure-fire road to and out an out winner (and I don’t even read comics, let alone care for how accurate a take this was on the Japanese comics it originates from). The film scores bonus points for Taiwanese pop-star Jay Chou delivering the most nonchalant, laconic racing style in cinema history.

There is much to said for a production that lifts a tried and true formula (Penny Marshall’s “Big”) then runs with it and refuses to play by the rules. The part of Kwong, the little boy who so desperately wants to be an adult so as to run away from his pre-pubescent woes, is tailor-made for Andy Lau, Hong Kong’s very own Peter Pan of their entertainment industry. Past the age whereby most sensible Hong Kong entertainers have retired (40), Lau herein displays an unequivocal depth in his performance as well as exhibits the fruits of the tremendous learning curve he has undertaken since entering the field in the eighties. Sure, it overstates its message in broad, melodramatic brushstrokes, but it never once failed to evoke the very emotions that it set out to draw from me. The narrative’s cruellest lesson is that once the path to adulthood has been engaged, there is no turning back – and I applaud the filmmakers for not pulling punches on that narrative arc. There are lessons to be learned along the way, as well as the revelation that not all is what it sometimes appears to naïve eyes, but the journey is a bittersweet one and the film a powerful tearjerker unsurpassed amongst the year’s output bar one.

As noted above, originally conceived as the final instalment in Jeff Lau’s previous “Journey To The West” re-imagining but left shelved until film technology had caught up with the tale he desired to tell, “A Chinese Tall Story” is old-school Hong Kong cinema given the thoroughly modern makeover. Dispensing with much of its source material (Wu Cheng’en’s much-loved Chinese novel), this final tale shifts its focus onto the Tang monk, Xuanzang (or Tripitaka, essayed by Nicholas Tse) and his straying from the path of eventual deification. Initial broad comedy gives way to CG overkill, before shifting gears into the second act’s romantic primary plot and onto further CG excess that would undoubtedly leave Tsui Hark’s head spinning before coming to rest at a climatic melodramatic-yet-poignant wrap-up. Though it flags a little in the mid-section, and is weighed by some insane mo lei tau along the way, Lau’s film has a manic, rambunctious energy and pace all of its own; much akin to a more fevered, contemporary reinvention of the “Chinese Ghost Story” formula. Many will assuredly loathe its excesses, but for me it is those very excesses that give it the wild, unfettered personality that it exhibits – and it is a personality that is often electric.

From the grandiose, to the small, Andrew Loo and Maurice Li’s heart-warming, and exceptionally well-grounded, romantic comedy set a tone that few (if any) paralleled over the course of the year. Don’t like Ekin Cheng or the other Hong Kong pop-stars/idols-come-acting sensations? Then you’d do best to well avoid this film – but by doing so you’ll be missing one of the more magical romantic comedies of recent years, as well as passing up the opportunity to witness that romantic comedy unfold in one of the more low-key and earthy fashions seen in some time within Hong Kong cinema. Everything and everyone, all narrative paths and characters therein, come to understand the power of letting go of the past, learning from the past’s mistakes and moving forward into the future, irrespective of whether or not that prospect is built on shaky ground or not. Everyone undergoes growth, most notably the viewer as they come to grow with the characters while they learn from the lessons life imparts them. Loo and Li jettison Hong Kong’s usual favoured melodramatic schmaltz in favour of something far more believable, and for that they are awarded the highest place I can afford them. Were it not for Derek Yee, this would have topped the year with ease. It is nothing but a joy to watch Karena Lam and Ekin Cheng’s romance unfold.

And on to the one film that impressed me more than any other, Derek Yee’s superb “2 Young”, a heart-felt drama of young love and all the unexpected consequences that can result from its blossoming. Yee, when at the top of his form, delivers incredible films, rich in writing, performances and emotions which, in any other industry, would draw him the notice of some kind of cinematic genius. But here, he simply paints a canvas that is richly textured and quite beautiful, yet sometimes painful, to watch fill with its story. Jackie’s boy Jaycee Fong is great here – he’s warm, earthy and wholly believable as the love struck, naïve father-to-be, and his counterpoint, newcomer Fiona Sit is nothing short of brilliant in her first major role. Strength lies in the story, and the manner in which the characters have been written, with all parties rising to the occasion (with Anthony Wong, most notably, filling his pompous characterisation with gusto). Everything works, and I found myself wanting to see Fong and Sit’s characters ride out the pains of burgeoning adulthood, as well as all of hardships that go with it and the adversity they must face, to make a go of their future against the odds – and those are emotions all too rare in cinema for me these days. I can do little but offer my thanks to Derek Yee for offering up such a touching and affecting drama, grounded in a realism all too bereft in modern Hong Kong cinema as well as a newfound cinematic maturity that gives me hope for the future of the industry where others see only gloom.

© 2006 Michael Thomason